


tell me there are shores beyond these seas

by MayWilder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Betty Brant is a Good Bro, College, Gen, M/M, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, just really need a happy ending right now, nail care, parkner, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: Peter and Betty have never really been close. When they first start dating Ned, it’s a comfortable sort of companionship that’s linked through someone they both love endlessly. The two of them are in a group text, are familiar enough with each other’s families, and can carry an easy-going conversation. It’s always stopped there, though. There’s nothing deeper, really.So it’s a bit of a shock to them both when Peter sees Betty’s nails and blurts out, “Can you teach me how to do that?”Betty raises an eyebrow in surprise, halting their finger tapping. “Show you how to do what, Pete?"“Your hands—or, your nails,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to start taking care of myself. My therapist says it’ll help my anxiety or whatever? And my nails are a disaster. I bite them. And I don’t pay a lot of attention to them. So I was gonna start trying to make them not look completely terrible.”“Oh,” Betty smiles. Their eyes are almost as soft as when they look at Ned. “I would love to help you."





	tell me there are shores beyond these seas

**Author's Note:**

> author self-projects for 4k words. please recognize anxiety tags for triggers

Peter and Betty have never really been close. When they first start dating Ned, it’s a comfortable sort of companionship that’s linked through someone they both love endlessly. The two of them are in a group text, are familiar enough with each other’s families, and can carry an easy-going conversation. It’s always stopped there, though. There’s nothing deeper, really. 

So it’s a bit of a shock to them both when Peter sees Betty’s nails and blurts out, “Can you teach me how to do that?”

They’re both sitting in the library. Waiting for Ned to finish his meeting with his lab before they head out to lunch, sitting in silence while doing homework. Peter’s attention is caught by  [ Betty’s nails ](https://www.instagram.com/p/dDPxS7vsaJ/) —on their pointer finger is a teal color, while a lighter blue is painted on their pinky finger. On the thumb, middle, and ring fingers are both colors, painted in triangles on the tips of nails that are otherwise plain, with a little shine to them. There are even little gold dots along one of the lines on the partially painted nails. It’s eye catching, pretty, and incredibly well-coordinated. 

Peter finds himself looking not only at the nails, but at Betty’s hands as a whole. Smooth skin, no peeling around the cuticles and their nails look solid enough. Betty taps their nails on the table, unbending. 

Peter looks down at his own hands. Splitting and peeling, nail beds too pale and skin too rough. His last conversation with his therapist floats through his head. 

_ “I want you to get into a sort of self-care routine,” Dr. Meyers says, tone gentle. She walks over to her desk and looks through stacks of papers. “I’ve got a list here of recommended care, some helpful tips on skin, hair, lips, and diet. I want you to take these home and try to implement one of these into your daily routines.” _

_ “What is the routine going to do?” Peter asks, making sure to keep his voice polite.  _

_ “It’ll do a couple things,” she answers. “Creating a set schedule for all the usual things you need to do, making them part of your everyday routine, makes it easier to accomplish everything that gets too overwhelming for you. You get so caught up in getting everything accomplished that you get flustered and your mind spins. You can’t focus. Putting these things into a routine…” _

_ “Makes it less like extra work and more like my everyday life,” Peter nods.  _

_ “Exactly,” Dr. Meyers says. “So before you leave, we’re going to sit down and work out a schedule of when you wake up, eat, get ready and practice self-care, go to school, study and do homework, have free time, and work.” _

_ “Why do I have to… self-care?” _

_ “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but I would like for you to try it. You have a problem putting yourself first. If you put yourself first for twenty minutes every morning, it can flow into the rest of your life. And even if it doesn’t, that’s an assigned time to make sure you’re focused on taking care of yourself before you go trying to save the world.” _

_ “Will it mess me up if I can’t always follow the routine?” _

_ Dr. Meyers smiles. “We’ll take steps to avoid that, to allow for adjustments. But you’ll need to make some things non-negotiable, for a time. Can you agree to that?” _

This is what makes Peter blurt out his question. 

Betty raises an eyebrow in surprise, halting their finger tapping. “Show you how to do what, Pete?"

“Your hands—or, your nails,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to start taking care of myself. My therapist says it’ll help my anxiety or whatever? And my nails are a disaster. I bite them. And I don’t pay a lot of attention to them. So I was gonna start trying to make them not look completely terrible.”

“Oh,” Betty smiles. Their eyes are almost as soft as when they look at Ned. “I would love to help you. Would you believe me if I told you the reason I started taking care of my nails was because my therapist suggested it too?”

“Really?” Peter can’t hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you were in therapy.”

“I used to be,” they say. “My nails and my clothes… they don’t reflect my gender. I can  _ not _ identify as a girl and still like pretty things. Making my nails pretty or having exceptional hair care doesn’t take that away. I control it. And I started doing my nails as a way to accept that. I really love pretty things, but nobody gets to tell me that it makes me a girl. So yeah. Like I said, it gives me control.”

Peter mulls this over, looking back down to their nails. “So… what do I need to do?”

“Do you have any free time on Saturday?” Betty asks. “I would love to go shopping for a few things, then we can go back to your house and I can help you get started?”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “That totally works. Thank you, Betty, seriously.”

“Of course. Bring Harley! I’ll bring Ned, we’ll make a fun morning of it.”

When Peter gets home that evening and says they’re going shopping on Saturday with Betty, Harley makes a face over the pasta he’s making. “Betty?”

“You love Betty.”

“Yeah, I know, Betty and I are best friends,” Harley answers. “But you guys aren’t exactly close. You never hang out one-on-one.”

“I know, but they’re gonna help me with my nails,” Peter shrugs. “Teach me how to take care of them and everything.”

“Alrighty,” Harley shrugs. “Whatever you want. I need new kitchen knives anyway.”

“Do you really?”

“…Maybe not, but I want them.”

* * *

Saturday morning finds Peter and Harley meeting Ned and Betty at a high-end boutique Peter feels nervous about shopping at. Betty assures him that it’s worth it and ends up buying a whole collection of items for him as a “first time gift because I can and want to.” After a quick coffee run, Peter soon finds himself sitting on his and Harley’s bedroom floor, his new care-kit laid out in front of him. 

“So, a quick refresher,” Betty says. “Tell me what all of these are.”

They are having way too much fun with this. 

“Base coat, nail file, hand cream, sugar scrub, nail clippers, cuticle oil. And these,” Peter points to another pile of bottles. “Cleanser, toner, serum, eye cream, moisturizer in the morning.”

“And at night?”

“Cleanser, toner, eye cream, night cream. Once a week, I’ll do a mask before putting on the night cream.”

“Excellent,” Betty claps, nodding. “Now, I’m gonna work on your hands for a bit. Ned, babe? Do you have the milk?”

“Coming right up!” Ned calls. He walks in with a tray of two small bowls. When he sets it down between Peter and Betty, he kisses his partner’s cheek and turns to rejoin Harley in the kitchen. 

“Milk,” Peter says. “Right.”

“Whole milk is gonna soften and moisten the nails as well as all the skin around them,” Betty explains. “Now, soak those.”

The milk is pleasantly warm, soaking into the tips of his fingers. Peter finds it easy to sit and relax as Betty talks about the different ways to soften and treat nails. “You won’t have to do all this every time, but we’re trying to do some major healing here so we’re gonna take it slowly. You do know, though, that they won’t look perfect today? It’s going to take some time.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “But progress is progress, right?”

Betty beams. 

Once Peter’s nails are done soaking, Betty cleans them off. They clip the nails as evenly as they can before taking Peter’s new nail file and smoothing all the edges. Next, they take a tool to the skin around Peter’s nails, cutting away the flaking pieces of skin that Peter’s teeth have messed up. Then, they apply cuticle oil. 

“This is a commonly confused fact. Do not cut your cuticles. At most, we might push them back when we eventually paint your nails, but not while we’re trying to get them healed. You see, your cuticle acts as a seal between your nail and your nail bed, providing a protective layer against bacteria and debris. It basically protects it, so you don’t want to get rid of what your body has naturally built in to protect you.”

Peter absorbs all of this information eagerly. It feels easier to make the change to his everyday life when someone sits and explains why it’s helpful or needed. He wonders if Betty knows this or if they just like talking about it. Regardless, it’s making the whirlwind of change a little easier for Peter and he appreciates it.

After his nails are buffed, Betty scoops a dollop of hand cream into their palm and begins massaging Peter’s hands. As their fingers move over Peter’s dry skin, he feels the coolness of the cream fill the cracks while their fingertips soothe the ache of the muscles. Betty doesn’t do this quickly—they take time to work the lotion into Peter’s skin, not speaking and just letting them listen to their loved ones chatting in the kitchen. 

“You won’t use this much every night,” Betty says as they use a tissue to clear away any lotion from creases in the nails. “But you will massage the cream into your hands every morning and every night. It should be one of the last steps in the entire routine.”

“And you’re putting the base coat on now?” Peter questions as they smack a closed nail polish bottle in their palm. 

“Yes,” they answer. “This is also a ridge filler. They sort of act as one. This is my favorite brand, and we’ll check every other day to make sure you’ve got full coverage. It’s gonna protect and nourish your nails while they heal.”

“And after that?”

Betty takes one of Peter’s hands into theirs. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when my nails are healed, what happens after that?” Peter shrugs. 

“It’s up to you, Petey,” Betty tells him. They smile. “You can just keep moisturizing, making sure they’re clipped and filed, slap a base coat on… or you can start with colors.”

Peter looks at the gorgeous teal color on Betty’s nails and imagines them on his own. “I don’t know about that.”

Betty dips their head in acknowledgement. “I also want to talk about your diet. I know Harley likes cooking good, healthy food pretty regularly and your Spider-Man Super System takes care of a lot, but it wouldn’t hurt to take some vitamins every day to help strengthen them.”

“Such as?”

“Fish oil, Biotin, and Vitamin E should be fine. And you don’t drink enough water in general. Do better.”

“Have you ever not been bossy?”

“That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “You’ve seen _Top Gun_?”

“I can quote the whole damn thing.”

“You are an enigma. Betty Brant.”

“You’re lucky to know me, Peter Parker.”

* * *

After a Saturday of self-care and time with Betty, Peter thinks that’s going to be the end of their more personal interactions. 

He was pleasantly surprised at being proven wrong. 

Betty sends him pictures of a few nail designs a couple days later, followed by the text:  _ its time to change my nails up. what do u think i should do? im leaning towards the white and grey, but look at those reds! _

Peter stares at his phone in confusion. 

“You don’t normally wear that face when you’re doing chemistry,” Harley quips from the other side of the couch. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “It’s just—Betty. They texted me.”

“Oh?" Harley shares his surprise. “About?”

“Nails,” Peter tells him. “I, um, oh!”

He quickly types out,  _ why not a combination? It’s almost christmas time, anyways. b festive _ .

_ ur a goddamn genius, parker _ .

An hour later, his phone dings. He looks down to see a picture of Betty’s left hand, sparkling red polish accented with white and gold designs.  _ tell me im fabulous. _

_ they look phenomenal, bets _ . 

_ obvs _

It isn’t only texting that increases the conversation. Betty takes Peter with them to shop for Ned and Harley’s Christmas presents. They spend their time away from conversations about self-care and anxiety and into more relaxed topics like old movies. By the end of the afternoon, they’re decorating Ned and Betty’s apartment while trying to work their schedules around a French film class to take next semester. 

The next time they hang out, it’s just the two of them studying in the library. 

Once finals end, they run errands together and wrap Christmas presents. 

Betty joins Peter at work one day just to sit in the lab and chat. 

They volunteer at a shelter together. 

Even without Ned and Harley as buffers, they spend time together. Peter kind of falls in-friendship-love with Betty, and genuinely enjoys any time they spend together. It’s amazing—they still have once a week meetings to check in on Peter’s nail and skin routine, but it’s not the only thing that pulls them closer. It was a bridge then, but now it’s become another commonality. 

“Are you stealing my best friend?” Harley pouts one day, even as he peppers kisses across Peter’s shoulders and neck. 

“No,” Peter giggles, shifting in his boyfriend’s arms. “But you might have to learn how to share.”

* * *

As Peter settles firmly into his routine, he begrudgingly admits to Dr. Meyers that she was right. He finds that having things mostly planned out eases the burden of worry. 

There are still moments where he feels his skin prickle and his stomach roll because there is no way he can get everything done (particularly during finals) but for the most part, he finds a pleasant comfort in his schedule. He’s lucky to have friends and family that respect that and love him enough to begin working around it. 

He knows it doesn’t mean things are going to be perfect. 

He’s aware of that. 

Just not… prepared.

Christmas moves into the New Year, which moves into the final semester of undergrad. Peter and Betty take the film class for a relaxing credit, but the rest of his time goes into his bio chem project and his internship. He rarely sees Harley, or Ned and Betty and MJ for that matter. He works, he studies, he sleeps, then he does it again. Often, he goes to bed without showering or taking care of himself. He knows he shouldn’t slip up, but life sometimes just… piles up. 

And then, Valentine’s Day comes. 

Not that Peter notices. 

He comes home at ten o’clock, rubbing his eyes and papers falling out of his textbook. He doesn’t know if he can deal with Oscorp for much longer and considers letting Tony finally pull strings to get his internship at SI. The old man has been asking for Peter to let him do it for the past three years. 

If he finally does it in the final semester, does it count as quitting? These things run through his mind as he rounds to corner of the foyer and smells something sweet coming from the kitchen. He drops his things on the table in the hallway and follows the smell to find the kitchen completely spotless. There are vases of flowers all around the room and the lights are set on the lowest setting. That always means Harley’s in bed… waiting. 

Peter’s stomach rolls when he sees a pile of snickerdoodles and a thermos next to it. There’s a note scribbled down “bring me a mug of hot chocolate and some cookies when you get home. I love you always. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” he hisses to himself. He takes a moment to duck his head and attempt to control the swell of guilt. This isn’t the time. 

With shaking hands, Peter gets two mugs and pours the hot chocolate from the thermos into them. He grabs the plate, balances both mugs, and kicks off his shoes before padding towards the bedroom. He finds Harley in bed, covered only by his favorite red blanket over the lower half of his body. Peter feels even worse, knowing that Harley was waiting for him in more ways than one. 

He sets the mugs down on Harley’s bedside table, along with the cookies, before easing onto the bedside. He runs his fingertips along Harley’s arm, climbing towards his shoulders. “Harls, baby…”

“Hmm,” Harley murmurs, rolling over. “Mm…’eter?”

“Yeah,” Peter swallows. “It’s me.”

Harley blinks his eyes open. His smile drops and he reaches for Peter’s hand. “Don’t, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I forgot about Valentine’s Day,” Peter argues. “How-how are you not furious?”

“Because you texted me and told me that Osborn was being a dick and yelling about you trying to leave for dinner,” Harley responds. “He’s absolutely terrible, and it’s not your fault.”

“But you made cookies, and the flowers…”

“We can enjoy the cookies and cocoa now. And the flowers weren’t just for dinner, sweetheart, they’re there until I die. They die. Whatever.”

Though Peter’s stomach is still knotting itself with guilt, he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious, Peter.”

“I know,” Peter whispers. He leans down to kiss Harley. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” Harley scoffs dramatically. “Now, kiss me, because you making me wait is a capital offense.”

Peter falls into the kiss and tries to forget. 

He doesn’t.

* * *

The next few days are bad. 

Peter doesn’t sleep, long after Harley’s passed out as they’re curled together. Every time he tries to close his eyes, flashes of an empty kitchen and Harley’s note appear. From there, it devolves into Peter’s mind somehow recalling everything he’s ever fucked up in their relationship. 

He sees late nights when he walks into the lab, remembers lies about how bad an injury was when he sees his suit in his closet. He can look at his fucking textbooks and recall every detail of their first fight in the library, where Peter had been focusing more on school than on Harley and his boyfriend felt neglected. 

Whether the issue is big or small, Peter remembers.

He can’t stop remembering. 

“What can I do?” Harley murmurs a few evenings later, sitting on the shower floor with Peter as he tries to soothe himself under the water. 

“I don’t know,” Peter groans, ducking his head down. Fuck, it hurts. “I can’t shut it off, Harls, I know it’s stupid, but it’s there, it’s there and I can’t make it go away. I just—”

“Hey, hey,” Harley whispers. “I’m here, honey, okay? I’m here, and I don’t know if I can make it quiet. But I can try to put something different there.”

Peter’s hands ache and itch, so he nibbles at them to try and just make it stop. 

“That fight, in the library? Do you remember how you apologized, and then we talked about how school is important? And how the next four years would be tough, but we needed to prioritize studying? We agreed on that. We agreed on you being right.”

Peter sees blood on his fingers, and he shudders as he tries to finish playing the proper memory through his head. “Right. And-and-and then we kissed, in the Shakespeare section. When you pushed me against the shelves, _Much Ado About Nothing_ fell on your head.”

“And it was the exact book you needed for Lit,” Harley reminds him. “So we sat together for awhile, reading and making notes on the first ten scenes.”

“You laughed at Beatrice’s lines every time,” Peter grits out. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Harley encourages. He steps into the shower, still wearing pajama pants, and pries Peter’s hands from his lips. “Next memory. We’ll fix every single one, come on.”

* * *

The next morning, Peter feels marginally better. There’s still a twisted feeling in his gut when Harley rolls over and gives him the most blinding smile, but it’s nowhere near what it’s been the past few days. He and Harley spent all night talking through every memory Peter’s mind supplied and logically applying forgiveness and resolution and shared faults.

“I love you,” Harley reminds him softly. “And I’m going to say something you might not like.”

Peter blinks sleep from his eyes and waits.

“I… I want you to leave Oscorp. And not for the selfish reason that you may think, but for you. Things have been rough for you ever since you started working there. Your anxiety is worse than it’s ever been in the past few months and I think working for that dickwad is a large part of it. Call Tony. Let him do his thing.”

“But other people don’t have that advantage,” Peter sighs. “What kind of person does it make me if I take the easy road out?”

“Peter, honey, look at your hands,” Harley pleads. “It’s not the easy road. Please, just… consider it. For the sake of your big beautiful brain, please.”

Peter stares at his hands, horrified. Some of his nails are chewed down to the bed, uneven and shredded from his teeth—another side effect of his DNA. The healing was able to heal the wounds that drew blood the night before, but his nails are going to need extra care before they can fix themselves. All his work into taking care of them, all of Betty’s work in helping him… fucked up after one bad episode.

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I’ll call Tony.”

Harley looks relieved. “Alright. It’s Saturday. I’m calling Betty, if that’s alright with you? Thought we’d have a manicures-and-brunch morning then a lazy weekend.”

Peter nods, grateful. 

By the time Betty and Ned arrive, Harley is pulling a quiche from the oven and Ned is carrying a gallon of orange juice. Ned takes one look at his best friend and places the juice on the counter, striding across the room to wrap Peter in one the best hugs he’s ever had. 

“Love you, man,” Ned says in a low voice, letting Peter tuck his head into his neck. “Let’s take it easy today, okay? That’s the plan.”

Peter lets out a breath of air and holds tighter. He—and the rest of the world, for that matter—does not deserve Ned Leeds. 

Ned pulls away to help Harley while Betty walks up. They’re holding a bag of their nail supplies, smile hesitant. “Harley told me what happened.”

Peter twists his hands into his own sweater. “B-Betty, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-I-I didn’t mean to, I just… I felt so bad, and I couldn’t think straight and they itched, I couldn’t stand it, and then—”

“Shh,” Betty whispers, coming forward to wrap their arms around him. “It’s alright, Petey. We can fix this. We can start over. That’s the great thing about it, you know? We can start over.”

For the third time, Peter closes his eyes and succumbs to the affections. He tries to logically think through the frustration and worry.  _ Betty doesn’t bullshit people. If they were mad, they would say it, and they didn’t. So they aren’t mad.  _

_ They aren’t mad. _

“Let’s get these soaked and clipped,” Betty chirps when they pull apart. “Your cuticles are gonna need a little extra love. Oh! And I brought sugar scrub.”

Peter takes their hand and squeezes in appreciation. 

He’s so incredibly lucky. 

* * *

“So,” Dr. Meyers says. “How are you feeling, Peter?”

“Good,” Peter answers, pleased that the reply is honest. “Actually… really good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she smiles. “How long has it been since your last episode?”

“Haven’t had one since the Valentine’s Day fiasco,” he says. Peter looks down at his hands. “Even when some days are harder than others, nothing’s been that hard.”

“That’s good,” she says. “Are you comfortable in a routine?”

“Yes ma’am,” Peter admits with a blush. “It definitely makes everything manageable. More than, actually. And I’m actually taking care of myself.”

“I can see your hands looking healthy,” she agrees. “And I’ve noticed more color lately. When did that start?”

Peter smiles. 

_ “Do you coordinate your nails to match your outfit?” Peter asks one day, examining how Betty’s purple blouse goes extremely well with their mauve and grey nails. “Or is it just by chance?” _

_ “It’s the other way around, actually,” Betty shrugs. “I make sure my outfit goes with my nails, which is why my outfits generally coordinate for two weeks at a time. Dad says it’s because I have control issues, but whatever. I say it’s because even though the world sucks, I feel pretty fucking put together and that’s gotta count for something.” _

_ “Do you…” Peter trails off, hesitant before swallowing his worry. “Do you think I could do something like that?” _

_ Betty beams. “We can do whatever you want, Petey.” _

“And, despite our progressive state and the year we live in, I know that some people can be wary of men with nails done. How are the people in your life reacting?”

Peter knows he must look overly fond. “The people in my life are great. My entire family is supportive. Ned’s been letting Betty paint his nails for years, so he thinks it’s cool. Morgan likes it too, thinks it’s fun.”

“And Harley? He likes it?”

Peter looks down at his fingernails, yellow, orange, and brown, the ring finger painted with a little sunflower. 

_ “Sunflowers?” Peter asks, looking around their apartment. “You’ve never gotten me sunflowers.”  _

_ “They grow towards the sun, so they need sunlight,” Harley says, voice muffled in his search for a pan. He ducks under the counter. “You’ll do just as well.” _

“Harley loves me,” Peter says aloud. “He’ll support anything that makes me feel better, I think.”

“That’s always wonderful to hear,” Dr. Meyers looks genuine when she speaks. “You are incredibly blessed, Peter, I hope you know that. Your support system is unlike any I’ve ever seen. You must be okay with relying on them in the future.”

Peter nods.

“And even though this is our last session, I hope you know that you can always reach back out. I’d honestly like to check up again in six months.”

“I can do that.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Meyers nods. “It’s been lovely getting to know you, Peter.”

* * *

In the car, Tony turns with his eyebrows raised expectantly. “So?”

“So, I’m not too crazy to be out and ab—Tony, what is that?”

“What?” Tony asks, flippant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Peter can’t breathe. There, on Tony’s fingers, is blue and red nail polish, half of the fingers bearing white spider webs on them. “Are those— _ Tony _ .”

Tony looks away, sniffling slightly. He doesn’t say anything. 

“Tony.”

He puts the car in drive. 

“ _ Dad _ .”

That gives Tony pause. “You, um, you wore Iron Man nails the entire week of my birthday.”

“Yeah, and you cried.”

“Well. I thought I could sport some spidey nails on your graduation,” Tony shrugs. “As an ‘I love you’ or whatever. Because I do.”

“I love you too,” Peter says. “And, thank you. Not just for the nails, but for everything. School, changing internships, paying for therapy, being there when I need you. I mean it. Thank you.”

Tony leans across the seats to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Now come on. You can’t be late for graduation, right?”

As Tony pulls out of the therapist’s office and heads for Manhattan, the light catches Peter’s nails. He grins at the sight of them, whole and healthy, wondering if it’s like a reflection of himself, his life, nowadays. Whole and healthy. 

He closes his eyes and lets the light warm him, peace settling in his bones. 

_ Whole and healthy.  _


End file.
